


Lallafral

by orphan_account



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of standalone prompt fills. Each chapter features a different ship and a different kind of kiss, varying in rating from g to m.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dex/Nursey | Surprised Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter rated t

Dex isn’t out.

Still, he got rid of that Samwell Republicans sticker, he changed his Facebook picture back in June for an entire week (in Maine, where his entire family could tear him a new asshole about it), and he listens to Beyoncé sometimes.

Okay, he doesn’t always change the station when she comes on the radio. 

It’s as out-and-proud as he’s going to get, and as deep in each other’s pockets as they all live, Dex figures everyone has to know by now that he likes guys: specifically, Nursey.

Nurse got to him like Stockholm Syndrome. Will spends any time away from Nursey wishing they were together and the time they’re together wishing they were together. It’s some kind of bullshit.

_Yo, Dex. Roommate sexiled me last night. Help me get back at him?_

_????_

_Rent queued up on Netflix. My roommate would rather gnaw off his own leg than listen to Rosario Dawson sing Out Tonight, and you literally cannot call yourself a Wellie until you’ve seen the most entry level Alt Lifestyle-turned-mainstream movie there is._

Dex almost forgets his shoes on his way out the door. 

***

Derek’s a flirt, but he’s been pushing the limit of plausible deniability for months with Dex—using the summer to let the ambiguity of text shroud him in mystery.

When they’re together, he’s gagging for it; deeply lacking chill.

It’s embarrassing—only missing mortifying because he’s sure Dex doesn’t know. Nursey can’t function without touching Dex if they’re in the same room, so it’s an otherwise open secret. Sometimes, Bitty looks at Derek like he wants to cry. If there were any sort of reciprocation, he probably wouldn’t be making Bits cry with the sheer force of his crush.

So when he’s got the lights off to set the mood, and Dex shows up ruddy as a cabbage patch doll, he regrets pushing the envelope. He’s on his best behavior, hands to himself while Dex’s fists clench and spasm through the whole first act.

He hates that he’s fucked up so bad not even _La Vie Bohème_ pulls the stick out of Dex’s ass, but when he pauses the movie to apologize, everything goes sort of fuzzy.

Dex’s fingers grab onto Nurse’s neck, still stiff and twitchy, and the palms of his hands are sticky with sweat pressed under Derek’s ear. He’d be grossed out if he weren’t pant-shittingly shocked.

Copper eyelashes tangle up in themselves when Dex squeezes his eyes shut, and even though Derek knows what comes next, when Dex kneels over him and swans in to work his tongue against Nursey’s teeth, he’s pretty much comatose.

“Dude.” Nursey gasps when Dex reels away. “The fuck?”

It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be possible, but Dex’s face and the tip of his nose get so goddamn red if Derek couldn’t see the contradictory evidence pushing at Dex’s fly, he’d swear he had no blood anywhere else in his body.

“Didn’t you want me to?” Dex snaps, grinding the heel of his hand into his brow, and the shaking starts to set in just around his shoulders before Nursey gets his shit together.

“ _Chyeah_. Of course I did. I just didn’t know _you_ wanted to, you know?”

Derek pulls Dex’s hands away from his face and grins at the tiny quirk of his lip.

“For a while, yeah. I wasn’t sure you wanted it, too, until…”

The penny drops so suddenly that Derek’s breath catches in his throat, and he’s practically choking on his own laughter. Dex is concerned for the five seconds it takes him to realize Nursey doesn’t need emergency first aid; then, it fades into the sullen annoyance Nurse can’t live without.

“You thought I wanted to Netflix and chill?” he manages to sputter, using his knuckles to wipe tears from his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, I—“

“If that’s all it took, I should’ve thought of it sooner,” Nursey says. He tugs Dex down onto him and kisses away his rebuttal.  



	2. Eric/Jack | "I'm Sorry" Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated g

Bitty knows how Jack gets during the playoffs. He can’t say it’s one of his favorite things about him, but Jack wouldn’t be the boy Bitty fell for if he weren’t occasionally obsessed with hockey to the point of terrifying the people who love him.

He should’ve known better than to kiss Jack for the first time in February anyway. He’d just been overwhelmed with how in love everyone around him seemed to be in that second week, and his battered heart was ready for one more round. Most people remember their anniversary better when it’s on Valentine’s Day.

 _Happy anniversary, honey!_ Alicia says in a text. _He forgot his own birthday once. Go easy on him xx_

Bitty pictures Jack, maybe during his first year as captain at Samwell, so deep in sketches and plans for the upcoming season that his birthday came and went without his knowing. If Eric had been mad at all, the thought would’ve taken the wind right out of his sails.

Instead of being frustrated, he’s sad and little, back to feeling like the hanger-on that Jack tolerates out of the goodness of his heart. Jack loves him, but there’s so much that comes with playing in the NHL, when these little slips happen, Bitty wonders if it’s selfish to try to fit into Jack’s life.

“Hey, Jack.” Nursey gets off the couch and raises an eyebrow through the doorway at Bitty. Eric turns back to the lettering on the chiffon cake he’s been working on in lieu of dealing with his feelings. “No, yeah, thanks. It’s been good; we’re saving the party for the weekend, but Bits baked anyway.”  


The door clicks open and shut, Nursey taking his aggravating conversation with him, and Bitty might be just _a little_ mad at Jack.

“Hey, Bitty.” 

Spinning on his heel, Eric spots Nurse slinking off up the stairs. More importantly, there’s Jack, standing in Bitty’s kitchen in  _Massachusetts_ , taking up more space than Bitty knows what to do with, but tucking his hands into his pockets like there’s any point in making himself smaller.

“What are you doing here?” 

Jack takes three big steps into Bitty’s space and answers with a kiss. His hands stay put until Eric reaches for his wrists, sliding his fingers down to tangle them together. Only the push and pull of his jaw guides the slide of their lips, gentle and aimless, until Jack tips his chin down and away.

“I’m sorry I forgot.”


	3. Eric/Jack | "I've Missed You" Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated g

The morning after their first night together, Jack lingers at Bitty’s door, layering Eric’s neck with kisses ranging from pecks to languorous sweeps of his tongue and lips, all the while murmuring that he needs to leave before one of the other boys wakes up and finds him here.

“Then leave, you big dummy,” Eric says. He cranes his neck back and arches into Jack’s searching hands, but he’s really very disapproving.  


“Very persuasive,” Jack whispers into the shell of Bitty’s ear.  


Shivering, Eric wraps his arms around Jack’s shoulders, and says, “Stay. It’s not morning if the sun isn’t up.”

“What would Katya say?” Jack’s lips tug the delicate skin of Bitty’s eyelid, and the warm huff of laughter sets his toes curling against the wood floor.  


“Alright,” Bitty says. This isn’t going to end any time soon if it doesn’t end now. “Shoo, Mr. Zimmermann. Back to your couch.”  


He’s never going to get back to sleep, so he starts to get his things together for a shower when Jack slips away. From his fingers to his toes, his body is buzzing, and he can’t think of anything but the next time they’ll get to be alone together.

Jack’s there when he opens the door.

“Is everything okay?”  


His towels fall to his feet when Jack wraps one arm around his back and uses his free hand to drag Bitty up along his front. His grip stays tight on Bitty’s thigh, but the hand on Eric’s back slides into his hair and cradles his head as Jack rests him against the doorjamb.

Elbows hooked around Jack’s neck and his legs wrapped around his middle, Bitty sighs into the kiss.

“What was that for?” he wonders dreamily when Jack resurfaces.  


“I missed you.”  



	4. Eric/Kent | "War's End" Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated g

The medic is gonna get him in trouble, and Kent’s known it all along.

It’s more than just turnabout—though there’s definitely appeal to the idea of being _bigger_  for once; being the one who can sweep a guy off his feet.

Field medic Eric Bittle spelled trouble from the beginning with his guileless smile and his big, brown eyes. He’s sweet as the pastries his southern mother sends them all in the mail, and even though he looks like a stiff breeze could blow him over, he holds his own just like the rest of them.

When Kent had woken up in Eric’s care, bandaged like someone just dug him up in Egypt, he’d been concussed and hadn’t been able to do much but ask fruitless questions about everything he lost on his way into the hospital cot. Eric held his hand while he cried and submitted the paperwork for Kent’s transfer.

Now, he’s besotted practically to the point of uselessness, but he could be half dead again and still react to the words “the Emperor accepted the terms—Japan surrendered!”

The nurses weep openly if they don’t outright collapse, and the other officers are yelling and thumping each other on the backs, but all Kent can see is Eric. He’s awed and beautiful, fingertips grazing the lower lip that’s fallen open in shock. 

Euphoria is a funny thing, and Kent really can’t be blamed.

Eric sees him coming and beams, bright like sunshine. He opens his arms for a hug, his trim chest tight against Kent’s when he lifts Eric in his arms and whoops. There’s a dizzying moment of vindication when Eric laughs and sniffles into the crook of Kent’s neck.

He draws only far enough away to give Eric warning, but when his only response is to bite his lip and tap at Kent’s shin with the toe of his boot, Kent kisses him.

He kisses the smile that pulled him through hell on earth, tasting the warmth of the sun in the seam of his lips. Eric’s so young, and if the world were fair, he’d be on the other side of the world with only nightmares to compare to the things he’s seen, but he’ll get to go back there, now.

His face is bare and smooth against the grain of Kent’s stubble, and the war is over. He’s going to live long enough to grow a beard, if he wants.

Eric’s hands comb over the cowlick at Kent’s hairline, palms cool against his forehead. As they rake deeper, his fingers tighten, and he tugs back to look Kent in the eye.

“Am I gonna have to arrange another war to get you to kiss me a second time?”

“It’d take another war to stop me.”


	5. Jack/Kent | "I'm Sorry" Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated g

Kent hasn’t been able to think about Jack without thinking about their last kiss, so for the better part of the season, he hasn’t thought about Jack at all. Not consciously, at least.

The nights are a different story; he dreams about waking up tangled together in a mess of sheets and limbs with Zimms—the only time he’d ever stay still long enough to let Kent hold him. Sometimes when he’s not keeping himself busy enough with training, his mind wanders to the exhilaration of eager lips on his; the sickening contrast of that last, cold kiss in the hospital room before Kent shipped off to Vegas and Jack to rehab.

If he let himself think about it any more than in the most fleeting moments, he couldn’t have done it. There’s no question that he led the Aces to the Stanley Cup, and if he’d let himself get bogged down wondering _why Jack,_ it never would’ve happened.

It’s offseason, now. Massachusetts is cold as shit compared to the desert spring, and Kent hates that he might be forgetting how to deal with the cold when he spends half his time on the rink.

“Parse, what are you doing here?”

He looks so good with his cropped hair, even if it’s the only cut he’s ever seen dorkier than the way he wore it in the Q. 

Kent knows Jack didn’t love him back—he was too scattered and fraught to begin to try—and he thought he was over it, but it fucking aches when there’s nothing in those frosty blue eyes but shock.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Jack rolls his eyes and scoffs, “It’s not your fault you got picked first in the draft, man. I didn’t even know about that until after.”

Kent remembers their last kiss, Zimms barely awake, hardly caring if either of them lived or died, and he wants to puke.

Instead, he cups the back of Jack’s head with both hands, taking a second to adjust to the new length, and brings their lips together. He presses his forehead close into Jack’s, noses nestling with easy familiarity, and sucks in Jack’s lower lip. Warm, wet breath tickles Kent’s mouth, and he licks into the source, memorizing the scape of Zimms’s mouth.

“Kenny,” Jack whispers into the dip of his chin.

“They’re giving me the C,” Kent says. Jack drops his hands.

Kent has to stay—he promised he’d show the guys on Jack’s team the Cup.

 _Why Jack,_ isn’t going away any time soon.  



	6. Eric/Jack/Kent | Sloppy Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated m

Maybe a kegster isn’t the best place to kiss someone for the first time, but Bitty would hardly be the first to have done it. He can see at least three couples in dusky corners getting friendly, and if any of them even knew each other’s names before tonight, it’s because they had a class together once, maybe.

Bitty would be lying to himself and to God if he said he wasn’t toying with the idea of ending Jack’s silly football story off by slinking into his space and cutting the words off at their source.

He’s still sober; the cons (losing Jack’s trust, concrete knowledge of what he’ll never get to have) still outweigh the pros (satisfying the curiosity of wondering what the chapped peak of Jack’s upper lip would feel like against the tip of his tongue) by the barest margin. If he’s not thinking straight when Kent Parson shows up, it doesn’t have anything to do with his second cup of watery beer.

“You aren’t afraid someone’ll take a picture of you like this?”  


Bitty and Kent make four. Kent’s already done a round of selfies and autographs after introducing himself to Bitty and spooking Jack when he first walked in, and now he seems pretty much invisible. Still, it’s not every day that a hockey legend sucks a boy’s neck at a frat party.

“Tellin’ me you wanna take this upstairs?”

With Kent’s teeth and tongue still working over his collarbone, Eric moans, “Lord, I don’t know, just keep—“

In tandem with the sudden swivel of his hips, the flat of Kent’s tongue drags up along Bitty’s neck. Eric crawls halfway up the wall, left leg hooked around Kent’s thighs while he pushes up on the toes of his right foot, and as Kent nips his earlobe, he shudders.

“Upstairs. Make a right at the top; my door’s on the right.”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah.”

He makes good progress, considering the way Eric’s wrapped tightly around his waist and the grazing, sucking bites he’s leaving along the plane of Kent’s jaw must be something of a hindrance. After only a minute or two of nothing but an arm across his back with fingertips tucked under his collar, they slip into the bedroom and he’s sandwiched again between a wall and a hard place.

“Jesus Christ,” Kent mutters, guiding Bitty’s chin up with a hand and meeting his slack mouth with a desperate kiss. His tongue slides against Eric’s. He can almost taste the needy sighs that roll into him from Kent with each forward pulse, and the only respite he gets is when Kent pulls back to breathe. He keeps Eric’s bottom lip taut between his teeth, grinning in his retreat, and Eric can only let his head loll back and rock his hips in time with their rhythm.

“Hey, you can’t do that in here,” the most poorly timed voice in the world trickles through a closed door followed by rattle of a knob. “If you need a room, try the one next door, but—Kenny?”

The room—Jack’s room, which Jack has just entered through his own bathroom door—goes utterly still.  


“ _Right_! I said a right and a _right_!” Bitty cries, eyes squeezed shut hard enough to will himself out of existence.

“ _Bitty?_ ” 

“Eric, do me a favor?” Kent murmurs, face buried in Bitty’s neck.

“Okay? Sure.” Knowing Jack’s there, he can’t do much more to comfort Kent than pat his shoulder limply. Given that he’s still between Eric’s legs, anything more seems like too much.

“Please tell me you’re not cheating on my ex-boyfriend with me.”

“I… I can definitely tell you that I’m not cheating on anyone with you,” Bitty says.

He rolls his neck down to see if Jack can offer any clarity, but his flustered, glassy stare leaves Eric just as clueless. 

Delicately, he nudges Kent’s cheek with his nose.

“Is Jack your ex?”

“Could you please put him down?” Jack snaps before Kent can answer.

Shoulders shaking, Kent backs up from the wall.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Zimms. So, your room’s across the hall?”

Terrified he’ll do something ridiculous like wave goodbye to Jack, Bitty hides his hot face in his hands and nods helplessly. Kent is halfway out the door when Jack yanks them both back in.

“ _Don’t_. Don’t do that.”

“Jack, I don’t think Shitty would mind if I _did_ hook up with Kent in his room, but I actually live here, so—“

“Holy shit,” Kent gasps. 

Jack’s scowl of consternation furrows at the creases when a few hiccupping giggles turn into fully body laughs, so strong Kent has to put Eric down on the bed to catch his breath. He actually holds his belly until Bitty’s tempted to pout, too. 

“Sorry, Eric, but I think you’re gonna thank me.

“You want in on this, Zimms?”

Jack’s face becomes instantly, miraculously blank; the only lines left the fine ones that deepen when the droopy corners of his eyes go slack.

“Kent, this isn’t—“ Bitty’s heart thuds in his ribcage.

“If he says no, it’s no big deal. But I’m gonna kiss him first,” Kent says, winking.

And then, doing what Eric had only thought any man could do in his dreams, Kent slides his thumbs just into the waistband of Jack’s jeans and jerks him closer until their bodies are flush. 

Bitty can’t look away, body on fire with potential energy, when Kent, who’d just spent the better part of an hour making out with Eric, presses the same mouth against Jack’s pout. His lips and Jack’s are only one person’s lips removed, Shitty not included.

“Alright,” Kent sighs. Jack is petrified, hands held out half a foot away from Kent’s body, stuck in limbo. “It was worth a shot.”

Bitty can’t really look away from Jack and his eerie stillness, but the muted disappointment that comes through every word of Kent’s nonchalant brushoff has him standing when Kent takes his hand. 

“I guess you’ll just have to make due with me,” Eric chirps. “How’ll we ever manage?”

“I’ve got some ideas.” Kent smirks, slamming Jack’s door shut on their way out. Bitty tugs him closer by the tails of his flannel shirt across the hall, working the buttons from the top open with his teeth. It’s harder than it looks, and every time he gets one unbuttoned, there’s new terrain of muscled chest to lavish with licks and bites, so he only actually manages three.

“I’m gonna be marked up for days.”

“’Sthat a problem?” Bitty asks.

Eric’s strangled gasp drowns out whatever reply he might have gotten when Kent lifts him clean off the floor again, hands cradling Bitty’s thighs.

Hands cradling Eric’s thighs, and fingers tugging on the lengths of Bitty’s hair. Two pairs of hands.

Kent’s lips pause behind Eric’s ear, and he mutters, “The fuck?” and then another set of lips presses in around Bitty’s, tongue poking out along the seam of his mouth.

“Jack?”

The whole line of Jack’s body edges in, and all the places where Kent’s holding Bitty are suddenly electric. Bitty’s throat tickles with a keening whine, and he releases of Kent’s shoulders to run a thumb along Jack’s cheek.

He can feel either of them at every shift; Jack’s urgent advances, which he only feels through the cushion of Kent between them, curl Eric’s toes in a completely different way from the languid push and pull of Kent’s body.

He’s pinned nearly to immobility, searching with his lips whenever any part of Jack’s face comes close enough. He manages a peck on the temple, a nibble on the shell of his ear, and a lap at his jaw until Jack kisses him again. Eric laves Jack’s upper lip until the rough skin is soft, sucking and lapping alternately to keep his breath. 

His eyes roll back in his head when Jack groans through a rough puff out his nose, and Bitty has to call a time out when Kent’s fingers tap against the bare skin of his back.

“In case that wasn’t clear,” Jack says, helping hold Bitty up when Kent steps away from the wall, “that was my way of saying I’m in.”

**Author's Note:**

> p.s. if you can guess what the title is a reference to, you can prompt me with literally anything u want and i will make it happen


End file.
